That Which Can't Defend
by astral-angel
Summary: Two houses. Two loves. Two lies. A tangled web of deceit threatens to unravel as the consequences of a chance meeting are more dire than anyone ever expected. HermioneDraco GinnyBlaise
1. Default Chapter

**Title: **That Which Can't Defend

**Author: **Mauzi

**Email: **Harry Potter

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters belong to me. Plot is mine.

**Distribution: **ask first

**Rating: **R

**Spoilers: **OotP. This should not be a spoiler!

**Summary: **

**Part (Prologue?) **

_Hogwarts Castle_

_March 16th, 2004_

The room stank of death. It's stench clung to her, slipping past the torn robes to slide along bruised skin. She breathed it in, choked at the vile taste. Her eyes stared vacantly around the room, her mind acknowledging the broken bodies of her fellow students.

She had caused this. The thought echoed in her mind, damning her with ever word. She had caused this. It was her fault, all of it. A harsh laugh brushed past her torn lips, breaking the tenuous silence that coated the room. It was hard to believe that no one had seen it coming. She had betrayed all of them, her friends, her family ... her brothers. And no one had had a clue.

Her eyes once again scanned the bodies in the room, now placing names with the still faces. Terry Boot, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil ... a low moan sounded in her throat as saw the faces of the last two bodies – Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom. Her hands clenched into fists that crashed into her mouth in an effort to muffle the sobs that threatened. God, they weren't supposed to be here ... why had they come? It wasn't supposed to go so far. She hadn't meant for it to go so far. Her body shuddered and she could feel a small pocket of laughter bubbling in her throat.

She was mad. Insane. Or, if she wasn't already, she would be soon. They would put her in Azkaban and she would die there. Alone. In the deep recesses of her mind, something railed, screaming at her to stay calm, that it was all part of the plan. She ignored it. It was a crazy thought, meant for a crazy person.

There was no plan, no reason for any of this to have happened. No reason, no excuse. The five bodies that lay sprawled around the room weren't part of any grand secret plot to kill Lord Voldemort. They were just dead, forever dead because they had simply trusted her, they had believed her. They had thought she was their friend, and now they were dead.

Stupid ... stupid of them to trust her, to trust anyone. Oh, she knew what they had all thought. She was a Gryffindor and anyone in that house would happily die before betraying their friends, of supporting Lord Voldemort.

None of it was true, of course.

Yes, she was a Gryffindor, but dying scared the hell out of her and she definitely wasn't the first Gryffindor who had sold out friends in order to survive, not by a long shot.

No, she knew all about Peter Pettigrew and how he had betrayed his friends, how he had sold out James and Lily Potter before blaming it on Sirius Black, about how he'd spilled Remus Lupin's secret. Oh, she knew all of it, and more. More than she should, more than anyone should.

But all that had been the past, and the past was no longer important. Only the here, the now mattered anymore. What she did now would determine if she even had a future. Otherwise it would have all been for nothing. Months of plotting, of planning, gone to waste.

Except that that was the crazy thought again. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. She had to remember that she wasn't crazy, that there was no plan.

Shakily, she got to her feet, saying as dizziness hit her full force. Black dots swam in her vision as she gritted her teeth, looking around for a wand. Wincing, she prised the smooth stick out of Neville's hand and awkwardly pointed it at herself. She stood quietly, listening. Elsewhere in the castle, she knew, fighting was going on. But she could hear noting in the immediate vicinity. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against what was to come. Steadying the wand, she spoke quickly and quietly.

"Crucio."

The words echoed in the room, only to be shattered by the scream that left her mouth as the first waves of pain hit, knocking her to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she rode it out, forcing the hex from her mouth in periodic intervals. It her twice more before the wand slipped from nerveless fingers, hitting the floor moments before her body, both echoing in dull thuds.

Through the hot slashes of pain that knifed through her, she realized that she had fallen next to Dean's body. Sick horror rose in her stomach as she stared into the lifeless brown of his yes, unable to look away.

And for the first time since everything had gone so fucking wrong, she allowed herself to cry, to weep for the mindless death.

Death she had caused.


	2. Part 1

**slyswn28 **- Thank you! And it wasn't exactly _soon_, but it happened!

**tRuE2U - **Well, I'm not entirely sure about the torture, but this fic will have lots of angst. Angst is my speciality. :p

**DrAcO'sblackrose - **Thanks! Elaboration will happen slowly. You'll see what I mean in the next couple of chapters.

**Taintless and valentines-hater - **Thank you guys!

**--- / --- /--- / --- / ---**

**Title: **That Which Can't Defend

**Author: **Mauzi

**Category: **Harry Potter

**Pairings: **Hermione/Draco, Ginny/Blaise

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters belong to me. Plot is mine.

**Rating: **Teen

**Spoilers: **While I will be incorporating some of the characters from HBP into this, no major plotlines will be revealed or used. So the only thing that is in anyway spoilerish for the book is some characters. Otherwise, anything up to and including OotP is fair game.

**Summary: **Darkness bleeds as betrayal cuts deep.

**Notes: **Check the dates, and everything will make a small kinda sense.

**Part (1?) **

_Hogwarts Castle_

_Great Hall_

_September 1st, 1996_

A wave of thunderous applause rose from the table next to theirs. Hermione Granger watched blankly as Davidson, Anna was sorted into Ravenclaw. Her brown hair hung limply around her face. The deep shadows under her eyes contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin. Her lips were frozen in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

When Flitwick, Francis walked towards the Slytherin table, Harry Potter found himself vaguely wondering if she was related to their Charms professor. Very vaguely, as most of his thought processes were concentrated on not thinking about anything. He had shadows under dull green eyes to match that of his best friend, and his lips were set in a neutral half smile.

Under the table, Harry's hands were systematically shredding the paper napkin he held into little pieces. Hermione was digging little crescent moons into her palms, hands clenched into fists.

As the Sorting Hat loudly proclaimed that Lestrange, Arion was sorted into Gryffindor, both were innately aware of the deathly silence that fell over the Great Hall. As the little boy stared at the Sorting Hat in horror, Minerva McGonagall looked at the headmaster for guidance, shaken to see him looking solemnly towards the Gryffindor table. Feeling the weight of the stare, the two seventh years looked up, faces expressionless. Silently, the two stood as one, walking silently towards the dark haired boy still sitting on the chair with a defiant expression now.

And when Hermione Granger and Harry Potter led the first year back to the table, hushed whispers broke throughout the hall. The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically silent – the younger students were confused and the older students were all looking at each other grimly. Shifting to make room for their year mate, the few first years that had been sorted into Gryffindor already smiled in welcome.

Well aware of the fact that they were under the scrutiny of the rest of the room, Hermione and Harry walked back to their own spots, eyes carefully ignoring the two empty seats on either side of them. Harry slipped another napkin off the table, hands automatically resuming their previous motions.

The first years still to be sorted shifted nervously, eyes flitting from McGonagall to the hat, and then furtively, towards the Gryffindor table. Catching sight of this, McGonagall frowned before looking towards her list of names and sighing as she silently read the next name.

Hermione and Harry didn't look up when Malfoy, Antigone put the hat on her head. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Draco Malfoy smirking smugly as he waited for his cousin to be sorted. Harry, however, was staring at his empty plate, hands furiously attacking the paper. When the Sorting Hat gleefully, and to Hermione, it did sound extremely happy with itself, sang _'Gryffindor'_, she was watching the look of horror slide over the blonde's face.

McGonagall's lips pursed as she studied the defiant girl sitting on the stool. The little bursts of panic quickly hidden didn't escape her notice, nor did the familiar scowl. This time, she did not wait for the two seventh years to come up, instead raising an eyebrow, as if to say, well, what's taking you so long?

At the Heads table, Remus Lupin was studiously ignoring the tight-lipped Severus Snape, instead focusing on the Gryffindor table. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Hagrid, and allowed himself a brief smile. This was a year to go down in the record books. A Lestrange and a Malfoy, sorted into Gryffindor. His eyes settled on the empty seat next to Harry, a look of sadness wiping away the brief smile. He had wondered why Neville Longbottom wasn't at the table, but considering who had been sorted, he assumed that Albus had told the boy about Lestrange. While the younger boy was only the nephew of Rudolphus and Bella, not their son, the mere fact that they had the same name would be cause for concern.

Sitting silently next to the newly reinstated D.A.D.A professor, Severus Snape was wishing that he could be present when Lucius Malfoy found out that his niece had been sorted into Gryffindor, if only to see the look on his face. His dark eyes glittered at the thought, though his expression didn't waver. He gave a perfunctory sneer as Wintry, Taylor was welcomed into Hufflepuff. Scanning the room, he stopped at the Gryffindor table to study the two first years sitting together.

When Zane, Hestia settled down the Ravenclaw table, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat, causing a quick hush to fall over the room.

"Before we begin our dinner, I have a few things to say. Firstly, all students should be aware that the Forbidden Forest is just that – forbidden." Here he paused, eyes resting Harry and Hermione, both who were staring at their plates, faces white. "Also, Mr. Filch has asked me to inform you that all products made by Mssrs. Weasley and Weasley at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes are banned. A full list of prohibited products can be found in Mr. Filch's room."

A series of disgruntled murmurs flew through the room, heads swivelling towards the Gryffindor table, searching for the shocks of red that belied the presence of the Weasley children. Hermione's hands clenched tighter, and she knew that the wetness that pressed against her fingertips was blood. Harry sat stoically, shreds of paper falling from his hand to land on the ever-growing pile at his feet.

Dumbledore continued on, apparently oblivious to the tension rising at the Gryffindor table. Of course, he was Dumbledore, and was thus very aware of almost everything that occurred in the large room. "Finally, I must once again warn you that the left corridor of the third floor of the right wing is once again out of bounds for those who don't want to suffer a painful death."

The silence that met his statement was punctuated by the glance that Hermione and Harry exchanged, one of the first times that night that they had actually looked at each other. As if realising this, they quickly turned away, eyes shadowed.

Lupin caught the quick exchange and frowned, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. While Dumbledore finished his speech and the food appeared on the tables, the quiet werewolf was contemplating his two favourite students as they played with their food. He sighed before turning his attention to his own plate, gratefully reaching for a bread roll.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione almost smiled in relief as she felt the professors eyes leave her. Acutely aware of the empty seat next to her, she focused on the food in her plate.

'_Honestly Ronald, if you can't close your mouth while you chew, at least make sure you swallow before you speak!'_

'_It'll never happen Hermione. Mum's been trying for years to get him to stop.'_

Her breath hitched, a painful tightness constricting her heart. The memory attacked her suddenly, rendering her unable to fight against it.

'_Ron Weasley, one of these days you're going to choke.' An irrepressible grin at her cross statement._

'_Nah, I'm not going to die tonight. Seriously injured, maybe, but not dead.' She rolled her eyes, pushing thick hair away from her face exasperatedly._

'_And how, may I ask, can you be so sure about that?' A sidelong glance at the dark haired boy to her right, bright blue eyes sparkling._

'_Divination, 'Mione, divination. Harry's the one who has to die the horrible painful death every day, remember? He's even got a recently escaped convict after him. Me and you just get injured.' Harry's muffled laugh had her sighing. _

'_Yeah, but I have Snuffles to protect me.' Even she had to laugh at the irony of that statement. The redhead snickered, reaching for more food._

'_So you see, 'Mione, I'm in no danger of choking.' _

'_Glutton.'_

'_Book worm.' The so-called bookworm stuck her tongue out, making Harry roll his eyes at their childish antics._

'_Hermione…'_

"Hermione?" It took her a few moments to realise that Harry was actually saying her name. "Dinner's over." Startled, she realised that the students were filing out of the hall, the first years following the prefects.

"Oh." She stood up, fighting at the urge to scream. Why, oh why, did he have to be so _stupid_ sometimes? Why did she have to remember that conversation, the one where they had joked so easily about dying? About _Sirius. _And _Ron. Oh, Ron._

The two left the hall slowly, lost in their thoughts, yet still aware of the hushed whispers and fascinated stares that followed them out of the doors. The two seventh years stiffened as they caught the tail end of a particularly loud first year's whispered question, a lone tear sliding down Hermione's cheek.

"…but I thought there were supposed to be three of them?"

Three. _Three. _Three.

_Oh Ron._


End file.
